Somnolence

I welcome sleep
That sweet relief from the ecstasy of experience
The agony of constant sensation
Life, for all its joyous moments
Can also be tiresome and monotonous
A yolk of burden upon my living soul
I don’t fear death
For as much as I don’t want my life to end
I know one day it will
And I will be relieved of all obligation
All guilt and expectation
Returned to that purest of states
Nonexistence
Death is my long absent friend
Whom I will once again embrace
At long last
Nothingness, the home of my soul
Whence it came, it shall return
And finally
Sleep

Impulse

As now becomes yesterday
And Earth spins the hours away
I hold this moment in its place
This is one I shall not waste

Whiteout

Dirty clouded evening sky
Hides a city from the eyes
Of gods and angels upon high

The people scatter every way
Rushed to relax and end their day
Only the hooded hoodlums stay

Obelisks of steel and glass
Where once was only trees and grass
Will one day fall for rot or blast
And become ruins of ages past

Night will fall and day will come
The ants will march back one by one
Pointless work is never done

High above the people and cars
I see the towers from afar
Tonight these windows are my stars

Celestia

The spirit is stronger in the lady
Her star shines by day
To all observing, the brightest thing in the universe
My star is more distant
Clouded, enshrouded by the milky way
At its heart, pure darkness
Visible only by the swarm of orbiting fireballs it has trapped
I used to sit on the grass at night
Searching the sky for my impossible guide
When I can find it, my mind synchronizes with its rhythms
Overloads me with a sense of mass and gravity
It’s exhilarating. I love it.
But minds get trapped by darkstars
They have no balancing force to keep you from falling
The harmonics of the heavens sings to humanity
The months of the moon
Days of the sun
The constellations that spin about the year
But some are seduced by the dark heart
And feel its pull across the lightyears
Are we foolish?
Are we doomed?
The darkness in our souls
Is attracted to the darkness in the heavens
There is much darkness there to see
But nothing so dark as the axle on which the galaxy spins
The hub star

Fulcrum

A million voices
Cry out in perfect resonance
A million golden soldiers
Fight the same battle
A million outspoken advocates
Each with their own cause
But the same objective
A million makeshift churches
Built in the ether
Preach unity, love, peace
A million moral compasses
All pointing the same direction
Oneness is coming

Assembled

Life
Like a jigsaw of a thousand fragments
Painstakingly placed upon the table
Each piece in perfect place
One day
The puzzle is completed
The image shattered
All the tiny pieces scattered
And swept into the box

Spaceless

The mischievous soul, the wanderer.
Itinerantly traversing the many dimensions of space.
Able to manipulate time.
Freeze, speed, slow, rewind.
Existing as pure energy.
A single spark unrestricted by physical law.
What does it seek?
What is its purpose?
Whence forth has it come?
Witness now as it slips at light speed
On its journey from star systems unknown
Through the boiling heart of the sun.
Eight minutes pass in an instant
As it crosses the distance of an astronomical unit
And touches you.
Snags a stray electron in an unassuming neuron.
That weightless touch changes you.
Sparks inspiration
Revelation
Enlightenment.
And the traveler moves on.
Eager
It has much more of the universe to explore.
Does it know what it has done to you?
How can you acknowledge something so abstract?
So alien that it is beyond your perception.
What has been done cannot be undone.
You are now forever changed.
You are what you are
And what the universe has made you.
So, live.

Again

So it ends, like all the times before
You by the door
And me on the floor
Wounds evident on both faces
Like scars from battles
Fought over nonexistent places
You cry, I sigh
“Please, turn out the light.”
You do, the door shuts
Crawl. Explore
That tenderest of touch
Time unwinds
That place you find
Between shame and ecstasy
Jealousy and lust
Love without purpose
Togetherness without trust
Greasy, meaty and rotten
By the morning
All sensation forgotten
And so you stand
Foot out the door
Cursing yourself
For wanting one more

Razor

A generation of girls and boys with self inflicted scars / repressed and oppressed / without power or control / told to sit quietly, get in line / same time forced to aspire to unattainable beauty / unrealistic paradigm of perfection / their bodies the only thing they truly own / the pain is the one thing they control / taking all the pain and doubt that the world has yolked on them / channeled into the blade’s edge / release for a moment as they focus / the tears stop / the blood runs / when we do not allow our children to be what they are / self destruction is inevitable / the world’s problems do not belong in a child’s mind / the pain and torment of a community should not be expressed on the skin of the innocent

Dawn

All the things
I wish I could say
About the People
And our ways
If I should speak
Out of turn
And let our sacred buildings burn
I only hope that I can stay
To build toward another day